


Only Human

by ibelieveinguardianangels



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crying Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinguardianangels/pseuds/ibelieveinguardianangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It wasn't my fault!" Sherlock wailed suddenly, his words elongated and interrupted as he continued to sob. Hearing the pain behind his words, John was quick to reassure him, having to force himself not to wipe away the tears that continued to fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Human

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Sherlock can be perceived as rather out of character, but I wanted to experiment with an upset Sherlock.  
> Sorry for any mistakes.  
> The song is "Human" by Christina Perri.

Only Human

 _I can turn it on_  
_Be a good machine_  
_I can hold the weight of worlds_  
_If that's what you need_  
_..._

The consulting detective was distraught. He was lying on his back on the sofa, his legs raised in a triangular position and his pale hands covering his face as his body convulsed with sobs. His flatmate knew that he would be able to hear the man's pained intakes of breath and wails echo around the building. Doctor John Watson was kneeling on the floor beside him, unconsciously comforting him; his hands were playing with the man's dark curls and fingering his collar. Sherlock's usually pale face was red, his eyes puffy and bloodshot, and when he finally pulled his hands away from his face, albeit only momentarily, his pupils were blurred with unshed tears. The detective blinked slowly, allowing the warm, salty tears to fall, rolling down his cheeks and towards his ears as gravity caught hold of them, the remnants sticking his eyelashes together.

"It wasn't my fault!" Sherlock wailed suddenly, his words elongated and interrupted as he continued to sob. Hearing the pain behind his words, John was quick to reassure him, having to force himself not to wipe away the tears that continued to fall. John felt his heart physically ache for his friend, his chest contracting. The ex-army medic had seen him upset before, in fact, he'd seen him cry. But never had he seen him so hysterical. The sobs appeared to be uncontrollable and the man's body was shaking, his emotions rendering him inconsolable.

Every so often, Sherlock would run his long fingers through his hair, knocking John's hand out of the way, as he tried taking in and holding a deep breath in a bid to calm himself down, but each time he'd further dissolve into tears. John absolutely hated seeing his friend in such a state; he hated knowing that he had no way to help him. His words didn't seem to be enough and no matter what he said, it didn't seem to calm the tears. The detective was scared, that much John knew. The situation at hand would have been enough to cause him to panic, being completely out of control of his own emotions. But John knew that the previous case had affected him badly.

Sherlock had always been particularly sensitive when it came to cases involving children. John didn't know why, but it seemed to have escalated since the man had been made a suspect a few years ago; the pair had just returned from one of the most worrying cases John could ever recall being on. There had been serial kidnappings of young children around London and, when Scotland Yard had found themselves out of their depth, Sherlock had been contacted. Of course, the man had found the missing children. But not before a young boy, who required medication on a regular basis, had lost his life. Little Albiey was only 5 and had been abducted from his home. Sherlock had worked himself ill trying to discover the missing children; he'd worked night and day, not once breaking concentration unless his was completely necessary. He'd located the children and he'd worked so hard, but it had been (in Sherlock's eyes at least) all for nothing.

The doctor could tell from observing the detective's slightly manic behaviour that, despite his desperate denials, he blamed himself for the death of that little boy. Sherlock had remained silent in the cab on the way home, not once tearing his eyes away from the road as he sat, almost doubled over with his arms folded in on himself, his forehead resting on the cold glass of the window. Sherlock's strong demeanour had shattered as soon as they'd entered the comfort of the sitting room, he came to a stop in the doorway, shrugging off his coat and allowing it to drop to the floor whilst angrily kicking his shoes across the room. John danced around him to get into the apartment and had been about to reprimand him before he noticed the tears trailing down his reddening cheeks and had, instinctively, guided him to the sofa, supporting him as he laid himself down.

"It wasn't my fault, John." Sherlock repeated, his speech distorted by his tears, "It wasn't my fault." He whispered, his voice strained. John soothed him, his right hand resting on the man's forearm, rubbing it gently whilst his left hand was running through the detective's mussed curls as he retched, coughing at the effort of his uncontrolled sobs.

"Sit up, Sherlock." John ordered softly, watching with soft eyes as he did as he was told and he stood, climbing onto the sofa with him, instinctively wrapping his arms around his thin frame. The doctor made a pointing of not flinching away when the detective gagged again as he let out an awful strained cough. "Sherlock, it _wasn't_ your fault." John stressed as he assured him, echoing his words from earlier, "You worked so hard, Sherlock. You worked your hardest. You did all you could. The criminal has been caught."

"But I didn't work fast enough." Sherlock stammered, his speech uncoordinated, "I didn't save him!"

"You can't save everybody. Believe me, I should know," John's left hand worked towards comforting the detective as his right hand continued to play with his friend's curls, "but you did your best. And you got that vile creature off of the streets. You could have saved a dozen more little lives, you see?"

John felt his chest clench as he watched his friend and, seeing that the tears were failing to slow down, he enveloped his flatmate in a tight hug, holding his thin frame to him, feeling him quiver in his arms. Part of John filled with pride that Sherlock trusted him enough to allow him to see him like this, to witness him in such a vulnerable state. But another part pained for him and the doctor could only hope he wouldn't ever have to witness his friend in such a state again.

"Sherlock, you did well," John assured him, trying a different tactic and leaning closer so that the man could hear him over his sobs, "and I'm very proud of you." John leaned backwards slightly so that they were resting against the back of the sofa.

"Really?" Sherlock hiccoughed, resembling a small child in need of reassurance, and John nodded. The pair remained perched together on the sofa until the detective's tears had thoroughly subsided leaving him red faced and puffy eyed. John refrained from stretching his aching shoulder as he released the detective with a soft smile, not wanting him to feel like a burden as he allowed his hand to dance over his back in a supportive gesture as he leaned forwards.

"Cuppa?" John questioned as he handed his friend a tissue, watching as he nodded.

_..._   
_But I'm only human_   
_And I bleed when I fall down_   
_I'm only human_   
_And I crash and I break down_   
_Your words in my head,_   
_knives in my heart_   
_You build me up and then I fall apart_   
_'Cause I'm only human_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> Whilst this is my first story on here, I do post the same stories under the same titles and penname over on Fanfiction, so if you see these stories over there, as long as the penname is ibelieveinguardianangels then it was myself who wrote them.  
> Feedback is always welcome.  
> ibelieveinguardianangels


End file.
